


Ad Curare Interdum

by LadyMD



Series: Medicus [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternative Universe - Doctors, Dr. Jon Snow, Dr. Sansa Stark, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hospital, Medicine, Politics, bioethics, how to save a life, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 05:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10404822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMD/pseuds/LadyMD
Summary: “Ad curare interdum, saepe tractare, ut consolarer semper…To cure sometimes, to treat often, to comfort always." - Hippocrates"And then there’s only one more thing you can do – must do.First, you take your hands off.Next, you call it." - Dr. SnowDr. Jon Snow is a Trauma surgeon at EVMMC on Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, while Dr. Sansa Stark, is the new Neurosurgeon on board as well as the newly appointed deputy chief of surgery, and also, his girlfriend of three months. An unfortunate loss, a teaching moment, and realizations in and outside the hospital life with all the drama and controversy in between work, brings the couple closer, with Dr. Jon Snow teaching us that being a doctor is so much more than knowing how to save a life - all while trying to build one for Sansa and himself - all while trying to build one for Sansa and himself.(Part of my Medicus collection of one-shots of my Jon and Sansa as Doctors AU)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Found myself writing another Medical AU story. Lol. Let me know if you like it!

__

_**Jon** _

_Esplanade, The Gift_

12:30pm

I placed my keys in the fishbowl, hung my coat, dropped my duffel bag near the couch, and kicked off my shoes, my eyes seeking out any sign of Sansa.

Seeing her keys, coat, bag, and shoes, I let out a sigh of relief and felt a smile reach my face, knowing that she would be staying the night.

It's only been three months since we started going out and already I've been burning for her to move in.

Well, at least she accepted the keys though it's only been these past two weeks that she's been using them, but that counts like a real victory for me.

_One drawer at a time then Jon._

I'm probably the biggest sap in the world but I wanted her around all the time. Not like we had that much time together anyway. Though I’ve had my share of work load, it was nothing compared to hers. I frowned, recalling yet another of the countless arguments we’ve had about her cutting off some work but she could be as stubborn as the Wall itself so I haven’t had that much victory on that part.

I scanned my apartment then and from the quiet and the lights being off, she was likely sleeping on my bed. I couldn’t help but swallow a groan at the thought of her sprawled peacefully on my sheets, her beautiful red hair spread over my pillows. Shaking my head, I carried on as quiet as possible so as not to wake her. I wanted nothing but to sneak inside and crawl beside her but I needed to stow away the food I brought as well as shower and change out of my work clothes, cursing that I should’ve done that before I left but I was too eager to come home. Ghost and Lady, our Siberian Huskies, were probably at her apartment which meant I really do have her to myself tonight. I grinned. I'll make sure to check on them later though. 

I walked towards my kitchen then, and placed the casserole, Gilly, the wife of my Catdiologist friend made, on top of the island counter beside something that easily made me smile.

On top of the counter, under a glass cover were an assortment of cookies with a small note on heating instructions (because she knew I liked them hot and moist), as well as a short message that made my heart skip a beat, written in her elegant script that was far mythical a skill for us doctors.

 

_Dr. Snow,_

_In case I'm still asleep by the time you come in, help yourself to these and wake me._

_Also, I might’ve missed you a bit today. Just a little bit. ;)_

_Dr. Stark_

 

I couldn’t help but shake my head and laugh. On top of being this gifted neurosurgeon that Eastwatch Med did not deserve, she _bakes._ And quite deliciously too. She probably baked these right after she came in from the hospital around eleven last night after her shift. I learned that most nights after her midday shifts, her mind was too buzzed to sleep right away despite her protesting body, so she would usually bake to relax before she turns in.

Slipping the note inside my pocket, I lifted the cover and went to heat up a couple of the cookies.

As I set the timer and waited, my mind drifted from thinking of getting a nicer oven and buying baking tools and ingredients with the hope that maybe she’d want to come over more and bake _here_ instead (and what a vision it would be to watch her bake –or eat, or drink, or – _anything._ She was just so fascinating to watch and I don’t even get the privilege enough to _see_ her as much as I wanted to. Which is pretty much every damned second). But I knew that she’d frown and look at me like I had the mistake to call out an abdominal mass as cancerous and not the swell of a pregnant womb.

I can just hear it now.

_“Why? My kitchen is across the hall from yours. You don’t need all those stuff. You don’t even bake! If you want more cookies, you can just say so and I’ll make them and bring them over.”_

She’d say and then poke me while rolling her eyes as if it was something as obvious. I sighed.

Both of us could be damn dense at times.

I jumped when I heard a yawn behind me. Whipping my head back quickly, I saw Sansa leaning on the kitchen entrance, rubbing her eyes and yawning once more, looking all adorable and sexy in nothing but an oversized sweatshirt that probably belonged to her brother as it had _Winterfell Wolves_ on it, her long white legs on display.

I walked over to her and brought her to me at once, depositing a kiss on the crown of her head and breathing her in. I held her to me a little longer and she let me, as she always did, her own arms wrapping themselves around my middle.

She wasn't overtly affectionate, preferring to be reserved with hers in public, but she lets me. She always lets me hold her for as long as I want.

I pulled away reluctantly, smiled at ccher, studying her sleepy form and tucking strands of her mussed up hair away from her face before giving her a chaste kiss.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you sweetheart?” I caressed her cheek before letting go and settling my hands on her waist.

She smiled at me and shook her head. “Not really. Well… kind of?” She blushed and smiled at me sheepishly.

I kissed her again, just once and quickly. “Sorry. I wanted to crawl to you right away but I kinda have to shower…then I saw these,” I nodded at the cookies. “I had to have some right away. Thank you, by the way.”

She blushed again and ducked her head. “It’s fine. And you’re welcome. But it’s not a big deal. You know I do that all the time when my mind’s too busy to heed sleep,” she smirked at me.

I kissed her nose. “I know. But it’s still nice. You’re nice. And you look nice,” I started saying in between tiny kisses across her face.

She snorted then giggled as she tilted her head to give me more access. “This old thing? It’s Robb’s. Don’t tell him I have it though. It’s his favorite but it’s just so soft and warm I had to nick it off him after he lent it to me once.”

I began kissing behind her ear as I tugged at the mentioned sweater. “You can always wear one of mine if he takes it back,” I offered, downplaying how much I wanted nothing but for her to wear anything of mine (she hasn’t yet, not even a shirt), most of all, I wanted her to wear my _name_ for gods’ sake.  _Keep it together, Jon. Or you'll scare her away!_

She just laughed then pushed me off so she could give me that playful look of hers. “Or…I could just… get rid off it and never wear it back. To seven hells with the sweater. What do you think, Snow?”

I groaned and pressed my forehead against hers while pulling her flush to me. I wanted nothing more but to ravage her but despite her playful…mood, I knew she was doing this more for my benefit than hers.

She had shadows under her eyes and I felt her catch herself from yawning again. She was still tired and we don’t need to rush today.

“As tempting as that would be, Stark. You need to sleep some more,” I pulled away slightly but kept my hands on her waist.

She sighed and bit her lip, but I could see that she was grateful. “Are you sure? I don’t mind…” she smiled again.

_Gods, just marry me already._

I let out a breath dramatically and pushed her lightly towards the bedroom. “Go, before I change my mind. Anyway, I need you well rested, Stark. We have all night.”

She dug in her heels and turned around, smiling at me wickedly, “Oh, do we, now?”

“Just go, Stark. At least, lie down while I heat up the casserole Gilly made for us. I’ll wake you up, feed you, and put you back to sleep.”

She arched a brow but didn’t protest. “Will that be all, Dr. Snow?” she batted her eye lashes at me.

_I should be getting a damned medal for this._

I nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes. Doctor’s orders.”

She pouted then. _Oh no._ “Don’t I get another dose of you? Preferably given _per orem?_ ”

I groaned. “Later. _Go._ ”

She laughed then. “Fine.”

* * *

**_OR 5, Eastwatch-by-the-Sea Veterans Memorial Medical Center_ **

**_1:30pm_  **

 

I carefully dropped the ligated appendix on the basin while Olly, my intern, started irrigating the wound.

Grasping the peritoneum with two straight clamps, I shifted my hold so Daeron could hand me a 3-0 poly so I could start closing. After I sutured the peritoneum, I approximated the first layer of muscle and turned to look at Olly while I started stitching.

“Is this your first time to see an appendectomy?”

He shook his head. “No sir. But it’s only the third I’ve seen and I have to say, sir, it’s the fastest I’ve witnessed for an open one.”

I smiled at him though I knew he couldn’t see with my mask on, and nodded. “I see. Dr. Cerwyn usually does a lap. But can you tell me why we didn’t opt for that?” Eastwatch Med was certainly no training hospital because we don’t reach the case quota for most departments, but we do accept interns on their last year of medschool for their emergency medicine rotations, and the occasional moonlighters. And I make it a point to teach them somehow. We’re relatively more benign than other hospitals so there was time for this. Well, except Sansa’s department of course.

“Based on the history sir, our patient had two previous abdominal surgeries prior to this. First was an emergency cholecystectomy, another was a mesh repair for hernia,” he answered a little nervously as he adjusted the retractors and suctioned to clear my field better.

“Very good. Why is having previous surgeries a contraindication for using a lap?” I asked him next.

“Because we’d expect anatomical changes as well as adhesions, sir,” he answered more confidently.

“Good,” I nodded at him as I did the last stitch then nodded at Daeron to hand the next 3-0 to Olly who looked at me with complete surprise.

“Sir?”

I took the retractors from him and the suction, nodding at him to take over the stitching. “You’ve earned the right to close from here. It’s not much but every little new participation is always a step closer to being a surgeon. If that’s what you were planning, that is.”

I could tell he was grinning from the excited gleam in his eyes. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Go on. And maybe I’ll let you ligate the next time, if you’re up for it,” I nodded at him.

“I’ll do my best. Thank you Dr. Snow,” he said happily before starting his suture.

I watched him carefully, instructing him when needed, praising when appropriate, and reinstructing him when warranted. Olly reminded me of myself. He was quiet, too serious, but eager to learn and prove himself. Though the difference was that, he had a hard life, and he barely scraped through school but despite that he was certainly passionate. Sansa often gushed about this intern from The Gift who was respectful, hardworking, and showed great promise.

“Nonsense. You’re the hardest working intern here. A hardworking intern deserves more opportunities. At least, that’s what Dr. Stark says.”

The tips of his ears and the back of his neck were suddenly flushed red.

_Oh._

“What specialty do you see yourself in?”

He thought for a while before answering shyly, the red on his ears darkening. “Neurosurgery, sir.”

I couldn’t help the chuckle then. I can’t wait to tell Sansa about this. “Well, then I best tell Dr. Stark to take you under her wing some more. She’ll be happy to hear this.”

I heard a snort and I just knew it came with an eye roll from Daeron. Things have been easier for Sansa somehow, finding friends with Gilly, Sam, Satin, and my Trauma team, of course. But for the others… apparently dating _me_ only made them hate her more and, yes, they were starting to hate me as well. It was only by Sansa’s grace that I kept silent, otherwise they’d be hearing a lot from me.

“I don’t want to trouble Dr. Stark. She’s so busy as it is. I don’t want to burden her.”

I sighed. “She _is_ busy, but she always tries to repay dedication and hard work where it’s warranted. Just show her that you’re willing to learn and she’ll gladly help you.”

He simply nodded while working but after a pause he asked. “Sir?”

“Yes, Olly?”

“I – I tried giving her coffee once. She took it and smiled at me but… I don’t think she particularly liked the brew I gave her. Do you… know how she likes it?”

I laughed again. “Are you hitting on my girlfriend, Dr. Marsh?” Castle Black’s First Steward, Bowen Marsh’s brother was the one who adopted him when Olly’s parents died.

He looked up at me then with a frantic look on his eyes and shook his head vehemently. “No sir, I just – Dr. Stark must be tired all the time even if she hides it well. I just want to help.”

“I’m just jesting, Olly. Don’t take it personally, Dr. Stark usually times her caffeine intake when it’s best for her. She probably had a surgery scheduled soon that time and she purposefully held out on anything that would compromise her dexterity,” I explained.

He looked quite impressed and I couldn’t blame him. I was too when I tried giving her coffee like he did and she politely declined. “Wow. She’s so smart. I’d never think about something like that.”

“Well, if you really want to help her, just make sure you do your pre-rounds and impress her by giving her pertinent summaries of her patients. That and give her lemon cakes and I promise she’ll eat that at one point in the day,” I winked.

“Thanks sir, I’ll remember that,” he said happily.

After a while, I decided to ask. “Olly? What’s it like to work with Dr. Stark? Does she work you like a mule or does she hardly make you touch anything?”

“Oh! Dr. Stark is very kind. She follows a strict system though and has a standard and a methodology that I’m still trying to learn by heart so I won’t delay her time during rounds, but she does this too. Tries to squeeze in teaching rounds. And explain. She frowns a bit when her orders aren’t met or were delayed, but she never makes a big deal out of it and just troubleshoots. Though… I know she’s always been hands on, but she doesn’t have to do some of the _scut_ work,” he confessed.

That bothered me. “Scut work?”

He nodded and I saw Daeron fidget uncomfortably. “Yes. Sometimes, they page her for an IV insertion, for a Mannitol push, an urgent abstract… things that I think us interns or some nurses could do for her.”

Now _that_ angered me. “Is that so?” I said in a low voice, trying to muster all the calmness as possible while trying not to look at Daeron.

Dr. Larence Hornwood, the anesthesiologist exchanged a look with me though. He wasn’t exactly close with any of us, but he was one of the good guys who took our side. He did his best to assist Sansa as much as possible.

“I tried asking the staff nurses to give me the scut work when I’m under her service, but they kept telling me that Dr. Stark was very specific, that she hardly wants anyone to touch her patients. But when I bit the bullet and did some of them anyway, I was ready for Dr. Stark to get mad at me but she only looked at me with surprise and thanked me with chocolate muffins the next day, so I try to help as much as I could and I urge the other interns to do the same,” he continued.

I counted to ten before answering. My anger abating somewhat at Olly’s thoughtfulness.   He really was a good kid and I've always wanted a younger brother. Instead I had two older nosy siblings with varied tempers but fierce loyalties. I smirked. “That’s very nice of you, Olly. I’m sure Dr. Stark appreciates it. Thank you. So…Dr. Stark… isn’t… cold? Or easily crossed?”

He shook his head. “Oh no, sir. Sure, Dr. Stark is serious all the time but she’s gentle and polite, and she does smile at us from time to time. I reckon she’s just really busy, sir. But I’ve never seen her get mad. Displeased, yes. But I’ve never heard her raise her voice.”

“I see. Hey, you’re done.”

He looked up at me then. “Wow. I still can’t believe it.”

He was about to clean up and put the bandages when I stopped him. “Go write up the OR tech and I’ll check. I’ll let you sign beside my name if you get it right. I’m sure _sir_ Daeron can take it from here.”

He nodded an ungloved. “Thank you sir.”

I nodded and finally met Daeron with a glare.

He squirmed then sighed. “Hey, I may not like her still but I do my job – _all_ of it. And I do respect her. But I can only speak for myself.”

I felt a hand on my shoulder. Larence shook his head. “Not here. I know how you must be feeling. It’s sick. But this is the North, Jon. They’ll warm up eventually. And Sansa is a tough girl. I’ll help her out where I can but you can’t just beat up everyone no matter how much I want to do it too.” Larence knew what it felt like, being a prisoner to his name and family too, having recently been elevated as the Hornwood heir following the death of his half-brother, Daryn. Hells, the three of us should start a club.

I let out a frustrated breath. “Fine.”

 

* * *

 

After scrubbing out, I was met by a very incensed Gilly who has apparently, been waiting for me.

And let me tell you, I’ve never seen an _incensed_ Gilly, more so a _very_ incensed one.

“Oh thank gods!” She exclaimed while grabbing my arm and dragging me to the empty stairwell. For someone so petite, she had a fairly strong grip. The outcome of lifting patients at the OBGYN/ORTHO ward where she was the charge nurse of.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

She placed her hands on her hips and glared at me furiously. “You _need_ to do _something!”_ She poked at my chest. “It’s gone _far_ enough!”

“First of all, ouch. Second, can you calm down for a bloody second and tell me what you’re talking about?” I said while rubbing at my chest and blocking her hands.

She took a deep breath then and looked at me sadly, but her eyes still blazed. “Have you seen Sansa yet? Or heard anything?”

I was filled at once with worry and rage the moment _Sansa_ left her mouth. “What is it? What happened? Is she okay? Is she hurt?”

She frowned then and I almost tore out the room, promising bloody murder regardless of the sentence, praying that whoever wronged Sansa this time, _deserved_ it after I dump their bodies on the bay. But before I could get a foot out, Gilly grabbed me again.

“ _What_ happened?”

“It was _awful,_ Jon. I was pulled out to assist in Sansa’s surgery. She…lost a patient today and everyone kept rubbing it in her face that it was _her_ fault, that she didn’t _try_ enough, that she wasn’t _perfect_ after all. And bloody fuck, Jon, I’ve never seen Sansa cry. _Ever._ But after she finished the order, talked to the relatives, and signed the paper works, her eyes were all watery but she _thanked_ the bloody arseholes and left without another word. After I finished my work, I rushed to see her, and found her inside her office, _crying._ Like, _really_ crying, like sobbing. I went inside and she stopped immediately and tried to regain composure but I hugged her and told her to let it all out and she finally did,” she recalled sadly.

I couldn’t speak or move. Letting it all sink, still not believing that Sansa was crying.

“When she was calm, she begged me not to tell anyone, most of all you. I didn’t promise anything, but I helped her fix herself before she went back to work again. I made sure she didn’t look like she cried. I don’t want to give the arses the satisfaction but seriously, Jon. This has to stop,” she huffed in frustration. “I know she doesn’t want to do anything but she so doesn’t deserve this.”

“Where – _where_ is she?” I demanded.

She sighed. “Last I checked, she had a craniotomy scheduled. She’s probably two hours in. What are we going to do, Jon?”

I looked at her then, very grateful that there was someone else who worried over Sansa. I smiled tightly at her. “Thank you for telling me Gilly. And thank you for being there for Sansa. Leave it to me.”

She smiled back. “Of course. She’s my friend too.” Then her face fell and she was clearly debating on something.

“Gilly, what is it? There’s more, isn’t there?”

She frowned and sighed. “Yes… what really pushed her over the edge… was that… well, you guys are dating right?”

I shut up at once and nodded grimly knowing where this was headed.

“And well… everyone knows your…father…had a hand in, well, you know,” she struggled.

“What did they say, exactly?” I said, hoping it didn’t come off as too snappy.

She studied me before hesitantly asking. “Are you sure you don’t want…an edited version?”

I shook my head. “Just tell me, please.”

She sighed before looking me in the eye. “Wait, just so you know, this has been apparently going on for some time now, only they were very careful not to mention it to me or anyone close to you. I was able to get Sansa to admit to me that this wasn’t the first time she’s heard it.”

“Well, what is it? Please! I’m going out of my mind!”

_“It’s not enough for her to mount the biggest dragon in King’s Landing, she has to mount another here too? But only the best for Dr. Sansa Stark, right? But who could blame the Targaryens? They have a particular fondness for Stark girls after all.”_

I saw red.

I pulled my fist and started to nock my arm and hit the wall then storm off seeking blood when Gilly grabbed at me.

 _“Let me go!_ Let me go so help me! I’ll kill them all!”

“Jon, _don’t!_ First of all, you won’t help _anyone_ by destroying your _hands!_ Second, think of Sansa –

 _“I am thinking of her!”_ I growled.

“I meant, think of what this will _do_ to her. Come on, be _rational._ You can set things right but not through violence,” she said more forcefully. “And if you destroy your hands, damn it, you’d be out of work.”

I took deep breaths and settled on kicking the wall, embracing the pain, bracing my palms on the wall as I calmed myself. Suddenly all the snide remarks I’ve been getting about how I was a _bloody fool_ for falling under her spell and being _whipped as hell_ were more double-ended than I thought they were.

“I can’t take it anymore, Gilly. I can take whatever they say to me, and I do my best not to interfere when they talk about her – not when she asked me not to. And she never _asks,_ Gilly. Except for _this._ It’s the only thing she asked. Only just for this. How can I _refuse_? I respect how hard she tries but this is the _last_ straw. I can’t take them using _me_ to _hurt_ her. They’re sick fucks! _Vile!_ To even _think_ that they thought she _slept_ with my father – _Gods,_ what a fucking low _blow!_ He made a mistake, I know. But that’s all in the past. We’ve all moved on a long time ago. And he’d _never –_ and Sansa’d _never - ”_ I choked. I was incredibly mad and frustrated, feeling near tears as well.

Gilly patted my back and rubbed soothingly. “I’m sorry, Jon. For what it’s worth, Sam and I, and the others, we don’t believe in all this bullshit. I even saw Val making some of the staff cry because she heard them whispering about her for less. We’re _all_ doing our best to help her. But this time, it’s too much. I haven’t even talked to Sam, yet. Though I had to talk to Val  because I ran into her and she wanted to rip their tongues off like you but I talked her out of it and promised to tell you. We both agreed that you had to know. I know Sansa’s been very careful not to let you know.”

I took a deep breath and was calm enough to face her. “Thank you. Gilly. I’ll take care of it. And I’ll take care of Sansa. Go on and go home to Sam and little Sam, Gilly. Sorry for making you wait.”

She shook her head. “No problem. I’ll see you, Jon. Hug Sansa for me again. If anyone can help her, it’s you.”

I slid down the wall once Gilly left, fighting the urge to punch it, cradling my head in my hands. I’ve never seen Sansa cry either. But I imagine it would be even more heart breaking and would surely _end_ me. I was aware of course that she was masking what she truly felt about her situation in the hospital. She made it clear to me that she _cared._ But she still wore the mask for the sake of her patients. She was used to this to some extent owing in part to her cutthroat residency at Old Town. I get that. Neurosurgery training was one of the most brutal ones with the highest drop out rate – forced and voluntary. It’ll harden you up some but I knew Sansa. She could be tough as nails, but her heart was at its core, so very gentle. And there was only so much she could take. And the accusations? They were too fucking much.

So congratulations, _Eastwatch._ You finally _broke_ her. But I swear to the old gods and the new that she was going to rise above this and the shit heads will get their due.

I tried to think about what to do. She’ll surely do her best to keep this from me and I knew her enough that I wouldn’t confront her on this. The best was just to act normally around her and do something special tonight. And maybe she’ll tell me. Maybe not. Maybe someday she’ll be comfortable enough to be truly vulnerable with me. But until then, I’ll just do what I can.

But for now, there was only one thing I can do.

I have to call my father.

I don’t really have a bad relationship with him. In fact, I respect the prime minister a lot. But I prided myself in working apart from the family name and never called in any favors. But this time, I was willing to swallow my pride and call.

With a deep breath, I tapped on my phone, hovered over his name, and pressed call.

He answered on the second ring.

_“Jon, what a pleasant surprise.”_

“Good afternoon, sir. I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything,” I said politely. Months of not calling, this was awkward as hell.

He sighed at the other line. _“Nonsense, son. And drop the ‘sir’ business. I always have time for my family. But I’m sensing this isn’t a social call.”_

“Well, not exactly,” I answered, rubbing the back of my neck. This was so awkward. I didn’t know how to proceed. Luckily, father decided to ease it in. If there was one thing Rhaegar Targaryen was known for, it was being intuitive and another was knowing how to put people at ease. “

 _“How is the lovely Dr. Stark? I’ve heard nothing but praise for her from Lord Commander Mormont, Dr. Wyllis, and my uncle,”_ he said in a pleasant but knowing voice. Lord Commander Mormont was the head official for the corps here at The Wall, Dr. Wyllis was our medical director, while the uncle referred, was Dr. Aemon Targaryen, our semi-retired Neuropsychiatrist.

I sighed. “I called because of her, actually. Father…why did you send Sansa here?” I decided to just go for it.

 _“Son…”_ he started.

“No, I know _why_ she did it. But was it really necessary? I mean, I don’t want to imply anything, but I _do_ work here too,” I cut him off.

I heard him take a deep breath after a few seconds of silence. _“I think it’s better I explain in person. I'm actually in Last Hearth. Why don’t you meet me here? It’s not that far.”_

I breathed out of my nose. “Fine. See you there in thirty minutes. I’m using the chopper. I have to get back quickly.”

_“Have a safe flight then.”_

* * *

 

_**Last Hearth** _

 

I was escorted to the presidential suite of Last Hearth’s castle which had a whole floor dedicated to guests of noble blood, in this case, my father, Prime Minister Rhaegar Targaryen. My escort was no other than the mayor’s son, Jon ‘Smalljon’ Umber who left me alone with my father the moment I stepped into the room. Well, as alone as can be with his security detail.

My father and I didn’t waste time on pleasantries and I was grateful for it. We nodded at each other and he immediately beckoned me to sit down across him on the long conference table outfitted for occasions such as this, a pot of black tea ready.

“Please tell me, father. I need to know,” I started.

His indigo eyes, a shade lighter than my own, regarded me before he spoke with the same grace and calm that Sansa mastered. The perfect blend to comfort and still be straight without a stitch of patronizing the listener.

“First of all, I don’t want you to think that I didn’t take the time to consider that a son of mine was working on a hospital that was on its way for closure. I did son. I know you didn’t want any of my influence when you decided to build a name for you there and I promise I kept my word but I have been keeping an eye out, and that’s never been a secret. But son, I did try. But the numbers were really bad. And I know you know that. Before you ask, in the event that the hospital closes, all staff will have ample severance pay a transition time. The neighboring hospitals are also willing to absorb most, if not, all of the employees. And I know you’ve been offered jobs in different hospitals to help you just in case. I really did give it that much thought, son. Ned and I talked a great deal about this,” he explained.

He did. He really did. Those were all very reasonable. “But then…how?”

He leant closer and gestured with his hands from time to time as he carefully explained. _“_ I invited Ned for dinner with Elia and I to discuss it further when he almost cancelled, saying that he was meeting with his daughter, so I just told him to bring her along. I asked your sister to come as well since I knew they worked together in Visenya Hill Medical,” he gave a half-smile then and his eyes lit up as he regarded me again before he continued.

“Charming girl, your Sansa. Ned was clearly very proud of his daughter and Rhaenys has only good things to say about her,” he grinned before sighing and shaking his head, “But she is quite the force to be reckoned with. When we started talking about Eastwatch, the poor girl was heartbroken – even brought to tears from the news. It was, after all, the hospital that miraculously saved her younger brother, Bran. And has thus served as a great influence on her pursuing medicine. We explained everything to her while she listened carefully, not knowing that she was already at work in coming up with a plan,” he paused.

“Go on,” I urged though I already knew what it was. I knew that they offered this job and position to her. I didn’t know that it was _her_ idea.

“Apparently, she’s been scouting hospitals in the North once she found out that there were only five board certified neurologists and only two neurosurgeons who were both on the eastern North and a very grim statistic – morbidity and mortality alike, with most patients having to cross South to consult or be treated as one of the neurosurgeons is a paediatric one, and the other, was mostly in Essos finishing up a fellowship. After showing us the numbers and convincing us that we should conduct studies on specialities that were lacking in different regions so we could plan on a strategy on making career opportunities to entice specialists to start practice on them. She then volunteered to work in Eastwatch,” he smiled slightly while he shook his head, his eyes not even hiding how impressed he was.

“But,” I prompted but couldn't continue.

He sighed. “Ah. Of course there was a round of protests from everyone at the table. Elia, Rhaenys, and of course, Ned Stark. I tried to diffuse it as best I could and offered for Ned and Sansa to talk in private but Sansa held her own. Rhaenys was, of course, very vocal about Sansa _‘throwing away her career’.”_ He paused again and looked at me. “No offense meant.”

I shook my head impatiently. “None taken, continue.”

“Sansa Stark certainly had a great run in Visenya Hill with great potential for many opportunities. But she insisted that she was always going to go back to the North to work anyway. And if there was even the smallest thing she could do to save the hospital that meant a great deal to her, she would do it. She urged us to at least, give her a year there to consider.”

That explained a lot. The long hours, the back to back surgeries, her insistence of taking shifts, why she hesitates to get too close to people, why she doesn’t move in with me…

“And if she doesn’t make a difference, we could do, in her own words, _‘what we must.’_ Ned then asked her if she was sure, she looked her father in the eye and said yes without a trace of hesitation. So, we had to consider it. Afterwards, Ned and I talked and of course, Catelyn, when she found out, was furious,” he sighed and shook his head again. I haven’t met Mrs. Stark yet, but I knew about the former senator who fought tooth and nail for women’s rights.

“I’d be too. But I know enough not to try and change the minds of my strong-willed children once they set out their minds on something,” he looked at me then and raised a brow.

I sighed. It was true. My father was a very convincing man, but he always respected our decisions. He never imposed on us, merely suggests and comments, but he leaves us be and instructs when needed but always let us decide in the end. I remember he didn’t even bat an eye when I decided to change my name, just asked me what it changed to so he could adjust all the legal documents he had of me – especially his will.

“But this doesn’t make sense. Sansa told me that this was asked of her. That this was a duty. Did she lie?”

Father shook his head. “Oh, you misunderstood. Ned clearly didn’t want her to. And I never would’ve asked his daughter to do this. We certainly tried convincing Sansa, telling her our plans but she asked to try, so if I agreed, I’d have to give her _something,”_ he looked at me straight then, his eyes saying what he didn’t. _Now do you understand?_

I swallowed. “So that’s why you made her deputy chief.” _That_ was what she meant by _duty._

He nodded once and leant his chin on top of his closed hand. “I would’ve offered better but I couldn’t. I knew she didn’t want it. She didn’t say anything, but I’m guessing she doesn’t like any career bypass. So, I made sure that the position was justified based on her merits as best as my legal and ethics committee could. It would just make sense that there was _something_ for her there and leaving Visenya Hill abruptly." I could sense there was more to that statement but I didn't press.  

"But I’m guessing… they don’t see it that way over there. Ned _did_ warn me of how the Northerners would take it. And his wife swore to take down that hospital, stone by stone if they ever mistreat her or prevent her from taking better opportunities. But I’m guessing once more… that Sansa Stark has an iron will, stronger than her mother’s threats.”

I let out a snort at that. “Well, it’s true. She’s so stubborn, alright. But it’s also true that they’ve been treating her like hell there. I mean, come on, father. The only reason they started to respect me was when I turned down being chief _and_ changed my name. What did you expect?” It took near a year for them to warm up to me. But even then, I didn’t get it as _bad_ as Sansa did. Not even _close._

His mouth was a grim line. “I know son. But what’s done is done and it was the only way I could show my good will to the Starks for their daughter’s good intentions. I had hoped that Eastwatch would accept her as she _is_ their governor’s daughter and she _is_ a brilliant addition. But,” he sighed and shrugged. “At least I told the Starks you were there and that my boy will look out for their girl surely,” he smiled proudly at me then. “And you certainly improved her stay there. Ned even started to forgive me.”

I huffed angrily and drank the tea that cooled untouched at the side hastily. “Fat lot that did. Did you know why I finally called?”

“Tell me.”

“They started a rumor that she _slept_ with _both_ of us. You, to get there, me, to stay there – as if she _needed_ any string pulling to get to the top. As if it was even worth the effort to get there. And there's more - that we’re not doing _anything_ about the rumors because such scandal would _affect_ us so we never set that fact straight, choosing to ignore it as a nonissue.” I slammed the cup on the table and saw my father’s usually calm expression, twist into disgust and anger. _Good._ “Oh and it gets good. You sent her all the way there to _avoid_ the press. And in case she’s already pregnant with your child, we’ll pass it off as _mine.”_ I continued remembering how Val found me just before I left and told me all of this.

My fists were clenching tightly on top of the table as I leant forward. “ _Please_ tell me you can end this. One of the staff nurse – probably the closest she could call friend found her crying today. And she _never_ cries.” I told him all about what happened as well as the conversation we had before we got together regarding her stand on her maltreatment.

“She can leave anytime she wants, son. I’ll make sure she gets hired in any hospital she wishes. Most would take her in on her merits alone, I’ll hardly meddle. But I know it’s not that easy to convince her,” he said.

I felt my gut drop at the thought of her leaving but if that’s what it took, I’d let her. Father saw this.

“You can too, son. Both of you don’t have to stay in a place that hasn’t been welcoming,” he offered quickly.

“We could. I know. With or without your help, we could. But she’ll never leave. Not when she thinks the hospital will close if she does. And face it, we all know it will. And despite everything, she has friends now. We’re a small group but she won’t betray their loyalty,” I pointed out exasperatedly.

“I’ll think of something. I _promise._ And I’d offer to send someone to talk to your HR, but I take it that any threat to their jobs that links to her or us would only make it worse for her. They’d follow because there’s no choice but you _know_ what’s going to happen. I don't like bullying. And we are all professionals for goodness' sake! Frankly, if it was up to me, I’d fire them all and replace them but…” he looked at me knowingly. “It's not fully up to me, son. Or you. It's ultimately up to her. You know how one gets passionate about something, it becomes the priority above all. Sometimes the principle simply weighs more than the rational alternatives. That’s _honor,_ son. And she’s a _Stark.”_

I let out a disgruntled breath. I _hate_ politics. And as much as I admire and respect Sansa Stark’s sense of honor, I _hate_ it. I was part Stark too but gods be good!

“Just tell me the word, though and I’d do all that anyway. If you think that we _should._ Let's do it. I really don't want to tolerate unnecessary maltreatment. But I’m sure your Sansa wouldn’t want this on her conscience, not that it has a place there anyway, but she’ll still feel some sense of responsibility for this. People will lose jobs - jobs they don't deserve from what they're doing, but jobs that pay for their families, but still,” he gave me a look while he said all that so sincerely that I had no choice but to believe him when he said he’d do it, he’d do it. “We could even charge slander, for my name, yours, and hers. But again, I don’t think she’d like the media to sniff this out. But if she agrees to press chargers, we’ll do it.”

“What do we do then?” I said helplessly after a minute, sinking lower on my seat.

He stood up, went to my side, and placed a warm, comforting hand on my shoulder. “I’ll think of something. I promise. But for now, there are some things you can do while waiting. One, you keep trying to convince her that she doesn’t have to stay there, doesn’t have to save Eastwatch. Two, convince her to go on a fellowship. Rhaenys told me that she had offers in Essos with grant for research,” I was about to say something as that was something big that I didn’t know, and probably something Sansa and I should talk about, but father cut me off.

He looked at me then softly and said, “Three, just keep doing what you’re doing.”

I blinked. “What’s that?”

He smiled. “Just love her.”

I swallowed. I’ve known it for a while now, even told her once, a month ago. But though I see it in her eyes too, she wasn’t ready to declare anything yet. So I tried to hold back from saying it again until she was comfortable.

“She’s not…”

He squeezed my shoulder. “I know son. But you should tell her anyway. Tell her all the time. And not just with your actions which I know you've been doing, but really say it. Especially now with the rumors. She might not say anything, but she’ll _need_ you to. Just be there for her, support her, and love her.”

I bowed my head and clenched my fists. “I just feel like such a failure. I want to commit murder whenever I hear things,” I confessed. “I don’t think I’m worthy enough for her.”

“And that’s why she keeps them from you. Because she doesn’t see you as a failure. Because she knows how much you try and the lengths you’re willing to go. Son, she knows that,” he squeezed my shoulder with each point and it was comforting. “And that last thing you said is bullshit. You _are_ worthy.”

I sighed. Ignoring the fact that my well-mannered father _swore._ “At least have another neurosurgeon near enough to call on and some neurologists too so she could concentrate on her specialty. I managed to make her give up her twenty-four hours to twelve while I’m working on getting her to agree to just be on call. She’s too overworked. _That,_ I won’t stand for any longer.”

“I’ll do what I can. I promise. Give me a month. I’ll even get Rhaenys to help me. And you know, Elia will too. I assume you don’t want to involve the other Starks in this?”

I thought for a while and shook my head. “No dad. Not yet. Let’s help them out on our own first. You do owe my _mother_ this.”

He sighed. “I do. Well, if there’s one thing the rumors got right. We do carry fondness for Stark girls. Don’t we?” he smiled wryly at me.

I rolled my eyes but nodded. “Yes, but dad. Sansa’s _mine_ ,” I shot him a look.

He laughed then. “I prefer brunettes.” He winked smoothly. “Though it’s really your brother you have to warn," he said, raising a brow.

I grimaced but then looked at my father gratefully. “Thanks father.”

He smiled at me then. “Don’t thank me yet.”

I grabbed his arm then when he withdrew his hand. “Father?”

His brows drew in confusion and surprise. “Yes, son?”

“Please do something. I never ask, you know that. Please do all that you can,” I pleaded.

“Son – “

I shook my head and looked at him half-mad, half-serious. “You don’t understand. This is Sansa. I’m going to _marry_ her one day.”

He looked taken aback for a second before breaking into a grin, clapping my back. “Believe me, son. I do understand, more than you think. And I know. Otherwise, you wouldn’t _be_ here and _asking_ me of all things,” he raised his brows at me and smirked.

That was true. I felt guilty all of a sudden for keeping my father at arm’s length. I was telling the truth though that I’ve already forgiven him for loving my mother when he wasn’t free to do so. And I know it wasn’t anyone’s fault I never knew my mother who drew her last breath, as I drew my first.

The only mother I’ve ever known was Elia, who loved me as she did Aegon and Rhaenys. She was the one who inspired and encouraged me to be a doctor. Even as a young boy, she somehow knew I would come to love the medical world – Rhaenys too. While Aegon was as much father’s shadow as was his mirror, mother would take Rhaenys and I to work. She was a Paediatric Surgeon, specializing in Neonatal cases. Rhaenys told me that we lost siblings before Aegon as well as a year after, and our grandmother had a history of miscarrying as well, thus was mother’s driving force. She was, after all, married before starting medical school so she had time to choose yet, and well after three years of training in general surgery, she decided to focus on paediatrics.

Rhaenys, in turn, wanted something in line with mother’s work. Thus, she worked to become an OBGYN with a subspecialty in Perinatology which was perfect for the two of them. I already knew I wanted something in the surgical field. And after mandatory military training as a medic, I knew I wanted to be a trauma surgeon. And that was that.

I love my family and I hardly felt like an interloper despite some of the backlash of my controversial origin. And now I realize that I haven’t been spending some time with them. I may have changed my name as a career move, one I don’t regret, but I was still part of a family. I would always be a Targaryen.

“Father, I’m sorry I haven’t been…” I started, staring up at him awkwardly.

He sat down again across from me and smiled warmly. “It’s fine, son. We all understand. Come home, some time. Bring Dr. Stark with you. Rhaenys and your mother would love to see her again. I’m sure Aegon will welcome her too.”

“Well, we _have_ to make sure she’s free to do that, don’t we?”

He grinned wider and nodded. “I’ll make sure of it. Again, I’ll need a month.”

“Thanks. I hope you find a way for her to have the option to leave without her worrying that you’re closing the hospital after, or something,” I pressed.

“Yes, yes. Now don’t you have a flight to catch?”

I stood up then after I nodded. Father did too and we stood facing each other awkwardly until finally we hugged it out however brief.

“Trust me on this, son.”

“I do. I just – I just wish I could do something more for her _now,”_ I ran a hand through my hair.

“Well, sometimes… flowers help,” He smiled cheekily at me. “And I seem to recall Ned telling me once that Sansa loved blue winter roses.”

“Flowers? Would it really be that simple?” I arched a brow at him.

His eyes had a gleam in them then as he smirked playfully, masking his age with that same look that charmed a nation. “Oh, son. You have _no_ idea.”

He turned me around then, placed both hands on my shoulders before he pushed me out the door. “A little goes a long way, Jon. Now _go._ No time to waste.”

* * *

  _ **EVMMC**_

 

I went up to Sansa at once when I saw her walking out the hospital, freshly showered and beautiful in dark blue dress and black thermal tights, that brought out her eyes and complemented her red hair and fair skin. 

I loved her even more when she smiled at once the moment she spotted me. She immediately went over and kissed my cheek. I cupped her face and kissed her soundly in turn making her giggle once she pulled away too soon. I studied her as discreetly as I could and noted that there were faint signs that she had indeed been crying.

Before she could figure me out, I stepped back and offered her three long stemmed winter roses I was hiding behind my back.

And from the expression on her face, I grinned ridiculously and vowed not to doubt my father again on how to woo women. Which, in hindsight, was actually ridiculous thing to doubt in the first place.

"Oh Snow, this is… you know you shouldn’t – ..."

"If you say I shouldn't do it, you know what I’m going to say and we’re back to the first conversation we’ve ever had. So how about a ‘thank you Jon; instead, Stark? That and a promise of nice...or naughty things later?" I attempted to wink.

She cracked up then, a hand covering her mouth once more, before she shook her head and smoothed her face into that coquettish smile, as she looked up from under her long lashes, and bit her bottom lip. "Thank you, Jon. These are lovely. I don't know how you knew they were my favorite, but I love them so much. It's so sweet of you. Certainly, made my day,” she blushed while smiling brightly.

 _Please marry me._ I almost blurted out at how damn adorable she was. She rarely said my name and to hear her say the word love... _Gods._

I kissed her again and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "I'm glad. Though, rough day?" I tested.

She sighed and shook her head as she wound an arm around my back while she held the roses with her arm. "You have no idea."

_Oh sweetheart, I do._

"Well, when its particularly trying I usually take a walk along the pier then maybe grab a drink and some food,” I tried to say brightly.

She looked up at me then and her eyes twinkled. "Can we?"

I laughed. "I was going to take you anyway, Stark. No need to ask."

"Sneaky,” she nudged me. “Well, let’s go Snow and show me this amazing escape of yours. You might get lucky tonight."

"I already am,” I answered straight without looking at her.

I didn’t need to see her to know that she caught what I was trying to say. I was waiting for a rebuttal but it never came. I glanced down at her then and saw her blushing.

I couldn’t help the smirk that came out.

Wrapping her tighter to my side, I kissed her head and led her to my car. 

* * *

  ** _Eastwatch Port, Bay of Seals_**

I could tell she loved the sea as we walked along the pier facing the Bay of Seals. We paused near the docks and stood there watching with our hands clasped.

"Back in King's Landing, I used to do the same thing. If I wanted to take a breather, I go down the docks and watch the ships. In my mind, I would play a game, imagining where each ship came from and where the others would go to. I'd imagine their voyage, the people, the things they see..." she paused and looked up at me tentatively. "Sorry, I'm babbling."

"No, no. I find it fascinating. Go on,” I urged.

She gave a deep sigh. “Sometimes, I just, watch, you know? Just the image of the water lapping against the shore, the waves forming and crashing… the sight of that, the sound… it’s soothing. And when I see the sunset, it’s beautiful. Like _sad,_ beautiful. It’s an end of something… but what an end. It’s just really beautiful when you see the sun painting one glorious picture before making way for the night.”

She paused then and I let the silence envelope us as we watched the sun start to set. Knowing that when she rambles and it catches a tone, it was her way of segueing up to what she really wanted to say.

“I lost a life today,” she stated suddenly.

I looked down at her and saw something shimmer –my mind on overdrive when I realized what it was.

Whipping around to face her confirmed it.

Sansa Stark was crying.

It was the most heartbreaking sight I’ve ever seen, rendering me helpless as fuck.

She hardly moved, nor made a sound. Just stood there, looking straight away while tears ran down her face.  Even in melancholy, Sansa still manages to look hauntingly beautiful that I froze for a minute, not believing for a moment, and certainly not knowing what to do but when one sob escaped, it was like something broke in me and I immediately framed her face with my hands, stroking her cheek until she met my eyes.

“Sansa… it happens. It happens to the best of us.”

She stepped away from my touch and started wiping off her tears from embarrassment. “I know, I know. I’m being silly –

I brought her to me then, cradling the back of her head as it rested against my chest, while my other hand wrapped around her back and began to rub soothing circles on it as her hands clutched at my shirt.

“You’re not. It’s never easy. But it happens, sweetheart. We can’t save them all, we can only _try,”_ I crooned.

“I know. But I tried so hard. I did my best,” her muffled voice against my chest felt like tiny sharp stabs at how laced with emotion her words came.

“I’m sure the family knows you did.”

“He was nine.”

“He got the _best_ care…it just…it happens. And it’s okay to feel bad about it. It makes you _human._ But it’s not your fault. You did everything you could.”

She didn’t say anything, just clutched at me tighter as she finally let herself go.

With all that she’d endured this day, this was the one thing that bothered her the most. Patients, above all.

I'm not even surprised anymore.

I stroked her hair and rubbed her back and just held her.

“You did everything you could,” I repeated.

 

_“We’re so sorry to have to tell you.”_

 

_“There was an unfortunate complication.”_

 

_“His body couldn't take the stress.”_

 

_“We deeply regret to inform you.”_

 

_“Despite our best efforts, we couldn't…”_

 

_“We've talked about the risks..”_

 

_“It was always a possibility.”_

_“We did everything we could.”_

 

These were the words we say to the next of kin.

It's hardest the first time. The death stays with you for days and either breaks or makes you. You remember, refusing to give up. You remember lining up yourself and do just that _one more_ round of compression. You remember ordering just that _one more_ shot of adrenaline. You remember giving just that _one more_ jolt of shock. You remember just that _one more_ try of holding on to the heart, massaging it to eventually squeezing it back to life as your eyes glue themselves to the monitor for any sign of your effort.

And then there’s only one more thing you can do – _must_ do.

First, you take your hands off.

Next, you call it.

_“Time of death…”_

It gets easier but not really. In some ways it does. For some ways, _never._

 

_H-how?_

_Why?_

 

_It's okay doc. You did your best._

_You did all you could._

 

And it’s all we and they could say to ourselves to make it better.

 

_You did all you could._

They'd say and though it doesn't alleviate the guilt – needless or not, We do try and cling to those words.

We _have_ to believe we did our best. and we _need_ someone to tell us. Because we’d lose our minds, rationalizing every little thing because we know there will always be something you could've done differently. Something _others_ could’ve done differently. No matter how small or insignificant, there _is_.

But this is the reality of our profession.

We save lives.

But we're not gods.

Contrary to what we are perceived to be or how we consciously or unconsciously present ourselves.

We’re not gods.

Trust me when I say doctors _know_ humility the most.

Not only humility, we _know_ failure. We _know_ mistakes. We _know._

We’re not gods.

We can only do so much.

We can only try our best.

And no one tries the most than Sansa. This wasn’t her first rodeo, I’m sure. But as I’ve said, she loves her patients too much above all, and add the stakes she put on herself to save this damned hospital, this loss was in no way, _easy_ for her. And for people to throw all of these in her face just for this _one_ setback of her stay here was just too cruel.

I just kept on holding her while she cried. Finding the right time and method to comfort her.

"That ship over there carries the flag of the Martells. There’s that red sun and spear. Probably a cargo ship. Probably carries fine Dornish wine," I said softly.

She stilled but didn’t look up. "Hm?"

I shrugged and continued. "I imagine it’s going to Skagos next before it makes its way back to Sunspear…” I tried to think of something that Sansa might like to hear.  “There's probably a wedding. They're going to celebrate with Arbor Gold that the groomsmen and the bridesmaids would guzzle drinking their singleness..."

I chuckled. Sansa was still quiet but she wasn’t sobbing anymore. It was working.

"Oh but they are a miserable bunch, especially when they see that the groom follows the bride with his eyes like a moon orbiting its planet, seeing nothing else but his whole world in front of him."

"And the bride?" she asked softly, her voice slightly strained.

"The bride would be a vision, having spent the whole day needlessly, looking perfect when she already is to the groom. More so without a stitch of clothing," I grinned.

She chuckled and smacked my chest, then she turned her head slightly to follow my line of vision, her hands still clutching my shirt. I wrapped my arms tighter around her, dropping my chin on top of her head while I freed a hand briefly to point at the ship.

"The groom would be one big nervous wreck but the moment he sees his radiant bride, everything will be as it should be,” I continued, catching myself from sounding too wistful. I found myself getting into this… narrative more than I thought to be. “It may be selfish but for the groom, the bride probably never looked better for him, as the moment she wears his cloak and his name.” Now I don’t know if I’m talking about a lucky fictional bastard from Skagos anymore.

I cleared my throat, looked down at her and gave an eyeroll. “And of course being in Skagos, they'd likely have some wrestling type of entertainment.”

She laughed then and shook her head. _Yes!_

She leaned into me and sighed against my neck. "That sounds lovely."

I shrugged. "Eh, I'm sure you can come up with something better."

"Maybe... though not today. Right now, all I can come up with is that one,” she pointed at one of the ships with an orange sail, “The one there came from the Summer Isles, a traveller having returned after trying to seek something but deciding to come back to ice and frost where she saw that she never needed to go away for find that something. It was already there all along,” she said in a hushed tone, her eyes suddenly meeting mine and somewhere in the back of my mind, I don’t think she’s talking about a Summer islander either.

We held our look for a moment before the sound of a horn startled us, causing us both to blush and look away.

I cleared my throat again and tried. "Well, damn. That's still beautiful."

“Jon?”

My heart raced as I looked down at her and she was looking at me with an expression I’ve never seen before.

“Y-yes?” I manage, coughing after to clear my suddenly dry throat.

A slow smile formed its way on her face while I felt a hand press against mine. She blinked once before speaking. "Let’s go _home_."

My jaw dropped as I searched her eyes.

"Home?"

She tilted her head and started fixing my collar. "Yeah... if Ghost wouldn't mind squeezing in with Lady and me..." she blushed and looked at me knowingly.

"I'll buy a house,” I blurted out, still trying to process the fact that she was finally agreeing to move in with me. I'd have bought her a zoo if she wanted at this point.

She smacked my arm.

I held her arms then and leaned down to level with her eyes. "But seriously... are you sure? You don't -"

She cut me off with a too quick peck and nodded. "I want to."

I picked her up at once, despite her protests and swung her around before dipping her and kissing her like a man possessed.

"We could use your apartment as an extra closet,” I offered dumbly, once we pulled away for breath.

"I don't need an extra closet, or a big house, silly. I just want you."

I groaned and pressed my forehead against hers. "Gods, what you do to me."

She giggled then before arching an elegant brow and smirking. "Come on, Dr. Snow. If we don't hurry someone might fall, hit his head really hard, and then where would we be?"

I hoisted her up in my arms then, earning a cute yelp. "Then by all means, Dr. Stark, let’s go home - _stat!_ "

I watched as she laughed once more while wrapping her arms around my neck, making my heart melt once more. _Gods,_ I’m the one whose _supposed_ to make her feel better too.

"Sansa?"

She blinked up at me and smiled as she tilted her head. "Yeah?"

"I love you."

Her mouth fell for a moment from surprise as another blush crept on her face. And after a hundred thoughts probably flitted in those baby blues, she finally leaned up to kiss me once, gently, closing her eyes after as she leant against my chest and sighed, but didn't say anything back.

But from that final look in her eye, it was enough for now.

I looked back and saw the sun completely setting.

I glanced back down at Sansa who was starting to nod off, the events of today finally catching up to her once she finally allowed herself to relax in my arms.

I couldn’t help but let out sigh of my own and a grin before I started walking.

“Sansa?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you sure you don’t have anything more to tell me?”

She stiffened.

“You’re not cheating on my with our blonde intern, right?” I said in my most deadpan voice.

Her eyes flew open then as her mouth. “What?”

I laughed then. “Dr. Olly Marsh.”

She snorted. “Ridiculous.”

“Just kidding. But he does have a crush on the hot neurosurgeon.”

She shook her head. “He’s interested in the specialty, not _me.”_

I chuckled. “Oh he is. But he is about you too.”

She frowned but her eyes softened. “No way.”

“Oh, yes way. He asked me how you liked your coffee,” I pointed out.

She shook her head again. “And what did you say?” Her eyes looked up at me in challenge.

“I asked him if he was hitting on my girlfriend,” that was honest anyway.

I could tell she wanted to tell me off but shifted to a wicked grin. “Well, he _is_ cute.”

I snorted then and pressed my nose against her. “Stop. I won’t tolerate any straying thought even if it's a joke. You’re _mine,_ Stark.”

She giggled then and shrugged. “So possessive. You want me around your life, that much, Snow?”

I smirked at her and borrowed my father's words from earlier, “Oh, you have no idea.”

She shook her head in disbelief before she sighed.

“One day, I’m going to make you believe me when I say I like having you in my life,” _and maybe one day, you’ll be comfortable enough for me to change saying ‘like’ to ‘love’ or ‘want’ to ‘need.’_

“You are certainly free to do so, Snow,” she grinned. “Now, can I please sleep? Pretty please while you carry me to your castle, my sweet, sweet, prince?” she cracked a laugh at the end.

I chuckled. “Go ahead, Princess. I’ll carry you to _our_ castle.”

“My hero,” she rolled her eyes but her smile never left.

I winked at her.

“You know, you always wink but did you know you never really do?”

I laughed again and let out a contented breath. “Seven hells. You do notice everything.”

“Yes, and the sunset here is so beautiful. The breeze isn't warm like in King's Landing, but I like the crispness of the cold.”

I looked down at her, and her eyes were so impossibly soft in their gaze. “Still think it’s a sad beautiful thing?”

She studied me a bit before smiling sweetly, shaking her head. “Not for our first.”

“Have I told you, I love you yet?” I blurted once more.

She looked at me and smiled knowingly. “You tell me all the time,” she whispered.

My heart was again, racing once more. “But you never seem to believe me.”

She simply hummed as she closed her eyes and rested her head once more under my chin and placed a hand above my heart.

She didn’t need to say anything, even if it would’ve been nice to hear. My heart felt so full at this moment anyway.

I leaned down and whispered. _“Ad curare interdum, saepe tractare,_ _ut consolarer semper_ _…”_

I watched as another smile graced her half-asleep form, knowing she heard and understood my words.

Dr. Tyrion Lannister often ended his bioethics lecture with this: _“Remember, doctors. As Hippocrates said, ‘to cure sometimes, to treat often, and to comfort, always.’ And that’s another medical dictum we take to heart.”_

There were still many things we need to talk about but I wasn't about to ruin this moment for us. And she likely knows, I know. But now wasn't the time.

Slowly, I turned our backs from the view of the sun disappearing seemingly from the bay, watching as lights began to open across the docks while I walked us a step closer back to our temporary _home._

I wasn’t kidding about wanting to buy a house.

Some day.

One day.

But for now, this was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I was overwhelmed with the response to my oneshot, Primum non Nocere that I got inspired once more to write another oneshot from the same verse. Sorry, I don't have time to commit to a full multi-chaptered story for this one, so the best I could do is a collection of oneshots. 
> 
> I hope you like it. Sorry if there are some jargons you don't understand but if you can't google, I'll be happy to explain them. I hope that with these one-shots if mine, you can get a glimpse of some of the issues we doctors face, the sacrifices we take, also an idea on what goes through our mind during some scenarios. Though of course, please do not generalize as I am writing from what I was able to witness, not necessarily what I did myself. :) Oh and this isn't in any way, autobiographical. Haha. 
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts. :)


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